


Guys' Night Out (and Hungover Mornings)

by Goodneighbor_Neighbor (Fan_by_Proxy)



Series: Commonwealth Canons (Yvette) [24]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Consensual Somnophilia, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Somnophilia, hangovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24939868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fan_by_Proxy/pseuds/Goodneighbor_Neighbor
Summary: Hancock and Deegan have a 'Guys' Night Out' as an extended get-to-know-you exercise, and Hancock comes home to enjoy a sleeping Sole.
Relationships: Edward Deegan/John Hancock, John Hancock & Female Sole Survivor, John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor
Series: Commonwealth Canons (Yvette) [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737616
Kudos: 28





	Guys' Night Out (and Hungover Mornings)

“Have fun. Do not leave him without his pants somewhere.” Yvette teased, picking a piece of lint off Hancock’s lapel before rising up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

He chuckled, hands comfortably on her hips. “Won’t count as a guys’ night out if I don’t, beautiful.” Hancock winked at her un-amused expression. “I promise, we’ll both be generally unscathed. Deal?”

“Deal.” she kissed him on the lips. “I will be here when you are home.”

He nodded, tweaking her chin and stealing another kiss before heading out the door. He whistled on his way down and out the door; the hot part of the year was winding down in the Commonwealth, and he was looking forward to cooler weather and the coming holidays. It had been a while since he’d looked forward to a holiday for reasons besides the parties.

Edward had beaten Hancock to the Rail, and was holding down a table towards the back of the place while sipping a beer. He raised the bottle in salute to flag Hancock’s attention. It was close enough to the time they were supposed to be meeting that he wouldn’t really call the mayor late…wouldn’t call him _early_ either, but that was neither here nor there. Goodneighbor, as a general rule, ran more on the _suggestion_ of schedule more than the actual application of it; save for real serious times.

Hancock nodded his acknowledgement, ambling to the bar to get his own bottle and throw a few caps down for whatever greasy meat platter came off the spit that night. Then he came to the table and sat down with a content sigh. “Ed, my man, life is beautiful.”

Edward gave a little snort. “You’re earlier than I thought you’d be, but I guess if it was just a quickie.” he said drily, just as a tease.

“Joke’s on you, it was a chaste send-off.” Hancock replied with a good-natured flip of the middle finger. “I’m under strict orders not to leave you pants-less in an alley, but she didn’t say anything about the bathroom.”

“Oh please, let me know how it goes trying to split hairs with your wife.” Edward shook his head and took another drink with another amused snort.

Hancock shuddered. “Really hitting below the belt there, Ed. Pretty sure we _both_ know how that’d go.”

“That’s why I’m not worried about my pants.”

Hancock raised a brow. “That _almost_ sounded like a joke there, Ed.”

“Well I’m not on the clock…John.” Edward replied, dropping his voice on the name because they _were_ in a crowd.

Hancock snorted, giving a little nod to acknowledge the effort. “So…how’s your day been?” It was an easy enough opener; not a lot of weight to it, but still sincere. They could keep the talk light while they waited on the food and booze to settle in. Then, after a little bit…he could start trying to get under Ed’s armor in his own way.

***

“...and _that_ is how a [Franciscan starburst plate](https://www.thesprucecrafts.com/thmb/P48lEAsR3fbAjIgxVFdgdSIgHSs=/840x0/filters:no_upscale\(\):max_bytes\(150000\):strip_icc\(\):format\(webp\)/FranciscanStarburst-589ce9193df78c4758750c1a.jpg)* cost three lives and about 1100 caps.” Edward finished grimly, shaking his head.

Hancock shook his head. “All of _that_ …over a fuckin’ plate? Christ, Ed, _how_ the hell did you put up with that kinda shit for _that_ long?” he asked, disgusted. Ten minutes in Lab-coat Cabot’s company had been enough of a trial for Hancock’s patience; he couldn’t fathom two-hundred-plus years of him _and_ the sister _and_ the mother.

Edward shrugged, turning his head and belching into his fist for manners. “Steady pay, familiar faces, safe place to lie down at night.”

“I guess I’ve done worse for less.” Hancock admitted. “So…” he poured another shot; they’d added whiskey to the table about halfway through the food, to help knock down the tough meat of questionable origins and get. “You and the sister ever…” he bounced his brow.

Pleasantly full and warmed by liquor and company, Edward _actually_ laughed. After he finished clearing the burn from his chest, he nodded. “Yeah, for a little while. In secret, ya know.”

 _This_ sounded liked a loaded statement; he really should leave it alone…but Hancock couldn’t resist prying. “Secret, huh?”

“Yeah. After I got past the rad-sickness and everything was pretty well settled with,” Edward gestured vaguely to his face and meaning the whole process of going Ghoul, dropping parts and all, “she started teasing pretty hard during one of those spans we were under lockdown…and I was pretty weak to blondes then so…yeah.” He shrugged, taking another shot and washing it down with a swallow of beer. It wasn’t the best flavor combination, but it washed back a little of the bad feeling.

Hancock watched Ed’s face, watched the liquor disappear in a quick 1-2 he himself had done more than a few times. “Caught feelings, huh?” he said sympathetically; under all the stiff was a real soft heart--that was part of Ed’s general appeal.

Edward sighed. “Yeah. Like a goddamn idiot; I knew how she was, but…I didn’t feel so ugly when I was in bed with her and…she _could_ be real sweet at times.”

“Hey, I get it man, I do. Especially when the downs jump you? Shit, I _get it_.” Hancock repeated.

Edward nodded, looking at the label on the beer bottle before polishing it off and signaling for another. “Been years, ya know? But it still stings. Dumbest shit, but it still stings.”

“How’d it break off?” Hancock asked casually.

“Went a few days without fooling around, and she’s kind of avoiding me around the house…so I go to her room after Jack and Wilhelmina went to bed; thinking maybe she’s sick or something. She’d snuck out, so I sit and wait, like a goddamn moron.” Edward sighed.

Hancock was pretty sure he knew the next part, but he kept quiet. This was obviously something that had hung Ed up for a good long while.

“Just about the time the sun’s getting ready to come up, she comes crawling in the window…with some farm kid behind her. We nearly shoot each other--me and the kid--and she slaps the ever-loving- _hell_ out of me for drawing on him. Gets me by the arm, drags me out into the hallway, tells me…” Edward took his shot directly from the bottle this time.

Hancock thought about grabbing it away from him, in case he decided to finish it off and give it a toss in anger. The room was too full for that; it’d be an instant brawl. Fortunately, Ed’s restraint clearly kicked in, and he set the bottle down. A little more forcefully than he probably should’ve, but that was better than a toss at the wrong guy.

“She says I need to get a grip, don’t be a moron. That I’m a tool to be used anyway she or Jack wants because that’s my job, and besides…she’s over her Ghoul-curiosity.” Edward glared at the label on his beer bottle. Smug powdered-wig bastard with his permanent smile and fleshy cheeks.

Hancock winced. “ _Fuck_ man…I _am_ sorry. That shit was cruel, way too fuckin’ cruel.”

“After that…” Edward shrugged. “I did my job. Made sure to lock my bedroom door. Paid for it every once in a while just to shake things up…didn’t think about the future outside of how it was gonna affect my job.”

“At least you’re not putting up with her anymore.” Hancock offered; it was a grim bright side, but the stony hurt on Ed’s face was obviously in need of some cheering.

“I know I need to get over it, ok?” Edward snapped. He set the bottle down and rubbed his temples. “Sorry. I don’t even know how I got on that.”

Hancock didn’t bother to point out he’d led the conversation that way. “Look man, that shit _hurt_. It cut you deep. Somebody you like cuts you like that, whether they mean to or not, that shit sticks.” He said. “Takes a lot to get _past_ that kind of hurt, and sometimes it still wants to creep up and fuck with you. Hell, after the thing at the asylum, ‘Vette and I didn’t talk for like…a month, and that was just some mind-fuckery and me being paranoid.” he shrugged.

Edward blinked, surprised. “You two weren’t uh…” he waggled his fingers vaguely, “then?”

“Nah, not then. We were friendly, and I was working off some plain wanderlust going around with her. I mean don’t get me wrong, if she’d said ‘hey let’s’, I _absolutely_ would have. I’m not blind.” Hancock snorted. “But no, not then. Just friendly, starting to get friendlier…so when I thought she’d caught that Diamond City bullshit…it hurt, _because_ I was starting to get into like with her. Ya know?” he poured out the last of the whiskey, making half-shots for both of them.

“Diamond City bullshit.” Edward repeated, taking the sip slower as he rolled the term around. “You mean the anti-ghoul shit, right?”

Hancock nodded. “Yeah. Thought she’d caught it, told her off, didn’t see her for a month…and probably wouldn’t have had much of anything else to do with her if _she_ hadn’t come at me.”

The ache didn’t fade, necessarily, but just being able to put it out--and to someone who really did get why it was so bad (at least in part)--had taken some of the weight off it. Edward drank a little more, buying time to puzzle out a thought. “That’s…kind of a scary thought.”

“Right? Dunno what my life would be like if she hadn’t, and I don’t _want_ to think about it.” Hancock said firmly. “Makes my head hurt and depresses the shit out of me.”

“Cheers to that.” Edward replied, knocking his bottle against Hancock’s. “That was always the worst part about having to go around Lorenzo; _mean_ bastard. Dunno if he was before the headgear, but he sure as shit was after.”

“He’d fuck with you too?” Hancock asked.

Edward nodded, but didn’t continue. He didn’t want to think about the kinds of things Lorenzo had taunted him with; didn’t want to think about leather and collars and giving pain and beautiful panting boys and girls at his feet. He didn’t want to admit how deeply Lorenzo’s probing had gone.

“Sorry. Hey, change of subject, yeah? I can dig it.” Hancock reached out, resting his hand on Ed’s forearm. “Forget I brought it up; fucker’s dead, he don’t matter anymore.”

Edward nodded. “Right. Dead, and I’m not.”

“Cheers to that.” Hancock replied with a grin, patting his arm and knocking his bottle against Ed’s.

Edward smiled, just a little.

***

Hancock tiptoed into the room, carrying his boots for a little extra quiet. It was dark, and he could hear Yvette’s soft whistling snore; he and Ed had put away a fair amount of beer before _and_ after the whiskey was gone, and he was feeling _real_ good. Hancock dropped his boots on the couch and made his way to the bed. Yvette was on her stomach, hugging his pillow and only about half-covered by the sheet. Hancock licked his lips, running his hand down her back to her butt to squeeze a cheek and pull the sheet aside. If he had known she was waiting on him _naked_ , he probably would’ve ended the evening a little earlier.

(The truth of the matter was that after a warm bath, she had been too hot and too tired to bother with anything besides the bed)

He palmed a cheek, then squeezed it slow for the second time to really relish the way his fingers sank in. Licking his lips, Hancock slipped his hand between her thighs to try a tease. He didn’t try to get his fingers in just yet; to warm her up he needed to play with her soft and easy, work at the clit from the sides and tease the ticklish places of her inner thighs until she squirmed. Hancock was on edge, listening hard for the change in her breathing, backing off when her hips started to move; he wasn’t ready for her to wake up _just_ yet. Yvette squirmed, huffing a little. She rolled onto her back, kicking at the sheet around her feet; restless, but asleep.

Hancock licked his finger and rubbed her clit in slow circles, dipping lower every few turns to feel the growing wetness on her lips. She was huffing more, hips starting to move, biting her bottom lip and looking good enough to eat. Hancock pulled his finger away to get his pants off, and nearly caught a foot in the hip as she rolled back onto her stomach grumpily with a snort. It wasn’t the position he’d been planning on, _but_ he wasn’t about to complain. Getting on the bed without kneeing or nudging her was a bit of a challenge in his booze-wobbly state, but Hancock managed.

He _meant_ to slip in slow and easy, take his time to make sure he didn’t wake her and just to enjoy the feeling. But the second his head was wrapped up in that velvety wetness, his hips snapped and he was _all_ in with a deep groan. Hancock braced his hands on either side of her and started to rut.

Yvette woke with a gasp, feeling full and tingly and a little smothered from being pressed into the bed. “ _Jean?”_ she managed to get out.

“ _Yeah, just me.”_ Hancock growled in her ear before scraping his teeth along her shoulder and slapping her hips.

Even with the heady waft of booze in her face, Yvette relaxed and braced her knees against the mattress for him. He had earned that _special_ permission, after all.

Hancock grunted, grabbing her hips to pull her into the thrusts. His lap felt wetter, and she was making cute little yelps every time she squeezed down hard. _God_ he loved making her sing when they fucked!

Yvette buried her face in the pillow to stifle her moans. Hancock was brutally efficient when he was like this; he picked a weak spot and didn’t let up until he either managed to come or got too tired to go on. She would have his whole hand for a bruise on her hips for how hard he was gripping, and if she tilted her hips a little more…

The rush of wet and the sudden firm pressure against his head told Hancock all he needed to know; his gal was ready for him to _come_ , she was ready for him to hit it deep, she was going to help him do it--Hancock let go of her hips to brace his hands on the mattress again and focused on the way it felt around his head. Everything felt so good and it was a goddamn distraction, but he _needed_ to pay attention, to feel that little pinch right where he spouted that meant he was gonna fill up her deepest point. The way her voice went from cute little yelps to deep throaty moans told him he was almost in the right place.

Yvette hoped he was close; as good as it felt, as good as it hurt, things were starting to feel a little raw, and she was wet to her belly. “ _Jean!”_ she mewled, thighs trembling.

Hancock grabbed her shoulders, feeling something give just a little around his tip; he gave a hoarse yell as he came, feeling the orgasm from head to toe. It was so good and he was still so wobbly that as soon as he felt the last spurt go, he pitched forward.

Clearly, he was _good_ and sauced. Yvette managed to pull away from under him, punching his shoulder lightly. “ _Con_ ,” she said fondly as she shifted around to get half sat up and keep Hancock’s face out of the pillow, “still awake?”

Hancock turned his face towards her, dopey and tired and eyes full of love. “I’m _so_ glad you’re not a total bitch.” He managed to get out before throwing himself at her, burying his face in her chest with a content sigh and a snort.

Yvette rolled her eyes and turned his face so he didn’t succeed in totally smothering himself, stroking the top of his head. In the morning, once he’d sobered up, she’d get the full story that had set him off in such a way.

***

Hancock woke the next morning with a pounding head, a dry mouth, and nobody beside him. He remembered fooling around; judging from how crunchy his pants felt, at least one of them got off, which was good as long as it was her. Great if it was both of them, but considering he’d tried some of the sleepy stuff? Hers was _way_ more important.

“ _Bonjour_!” Yvette said brightly and loudly from her seat by the bed. She was sipping coffee, still wrapped in a towel from the bath.

He winced, hand fumbling with the nightstand to find the Mentats. “Beautiful, beautiful _please_ \--I’m sorry, ok? Have mercy.” Hancock groaned as he crunched whatever landed in his hand; grape was not the way he liked to start the day but _holy hell_ his brain needed a jump-start.

Yvette snorted, shaking her head and offering him the mug. “Here, _m’sieur maire_.” she teased in a much softer voice.

Hancock sat up fully, taking the cup gratefully and taking a couple of swallows before passing it back. “Goddamn angel.”

“ _C’est moi_.” Yvette replied playfully. “Bobrov’s?”

He shook his head. “Lotta beer, good amount of whiskey…didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Yvette shook her head. “ _Non_. Just bruises, and a very deep mess, but you are still my good husband.” she leaned forward, lips at the ready.

Hancock sighed with relief and scooted to the edge of the mattress to plant his feet and meet her kiss. “Mornin’, beautiful.”

Yvette kissed him again. “Still some warm water. Proper breakfast, or dry breakfast?”

Hancock winced. “Dry. Sorry.”

She shook her head. “It is fine. You are getting old, _Jean_.” Yvette said with a wink.

Hancock grumbled, but couldn’t _entirely_ refute that statement. He patted her thigh and kissed her cheek. “Gonna clean up; meet you at the table?”

Yvette nodded, glad he wasn’t so hungover he couldn’t manage to get downstairs to the breakfast table. “ _Bien_.” she caught his chin and gave him another kiss.

Hancock smiled as he made his way to the bathroom, closing the door softly and taking a deep breath.

Yvette finished the rest of the coffee before dressing and heading for the kitchen; a dry breakfast meant toast with very little butter and juice instead of the usual fried breakfast with a juice cocktail. Some mornings were just like that for one of them, and sometimes both of them.

By the time Hancock got cleaned up, dressed, and made his way downstairs, breakfast was ready. He felt hot surge of lust and affection; being married to her was just never going to get old! “You’re the best, beautiful.”

Yvette smiled as she sprinkled a little salt over the bowl of fruit and cream that was her breakfast. “I know, but I like to hear it so often from you.”

Hancock sat down, leaning over to kiss her cheek again before settling in and starting to tear his toast apart. He liked to tear it into smaller pieces, had done that since he was a little kid for reasons he couldn’t remember; but it was what he did. “Ed and I had a pretty good time last night. Talked a good talk.”

“Oh?” Yvette took a bite. “I am curious, but are you to keep secret?”

Hancock hesitated at that. “…you know, we never really said? But just in case, just between you and me. Sound fair, beautiful?”

Yvette nodded. “So what did my wild men do?”

“Drank, talked.” The toast was finally all torn up. Hancock took up a piece to nibble; he liked the fluffy edges around the torn pieces. “He uh…you know, I thought you were a little nuts at first, but I admit it: you were right, I was wrong, he’s a goddamn softie in his spare time.” He said cheerfully.

“I told you that.” Yvette said with a chuckle. “It is part of that sexy appeal: strong, competent, sturdy, kind-hearted.”

“Hey, I didn’t think he was an _asshole_ -asshole, just that…he surprised me last night. Just a little.” Hancock nibbled slow, sipping his juice and wishing for a little vodka to take the last burr off the hangover.

“Oh?”

“ _Yeah_ \--turns out he and Imogene fooled around, after his pieces stopped dropping off. It didn’t end nice, and…yeah. He’s still nursing a pretty serious hurt about it--not like he was still hot for her or anything, just that she cut him deep.”

Yvette made a sympathetic noise.

“Basically used him to check off ‘ghoul’ on the post-war bingo card, ya know?” Hancock shook his head. “Called him a tool--like an actual tool, not the insult--” he clarified quickly, “and that was the end of that.”

“ _Charmant_.” Yvette said drily.

“Right?” Hancock shook his head. “Maybe flushing it out with some booze and a chat helped, I dunno.” he shrugged.

“Well you know what I think for that.” she teased lightly.

Hancock snorted. “Yeah, but I’m almost pretty sure you wouldn’t _actually_ have been allowed to write a prescription for that.”

“Hm…” Yvette tapped the spoon against her lips. “Maybe if I phrased it properly? ‘Take two beers and call me in the morning’?”

“It was _a lot_ more than two beers.” Hancock said.

“Believe me, I am aware of your hollow legs that happen.” Yvette replied.

Hancock blushed. “You uh… _sure_ it was ok?”

She nodded. “It was a wild time, but yes good. And still good. Promise.”

That was a relief. “Anyway, we just shot the shit, traded stories. It was a good time for me, and I’m pretty sure it was a good time for him.”

“ _Bien_.” Yvette reached over and laid her hand over his for a moment. “Something you will want to do again?”

He nodded. “Definitely. Ed’s a nice guy, and he doesn’t hog the bottle.”

“ _Such_ high standards.” Yvette teased.

He snorted, then was quiet for a few moments. “Beautiful, I got a question for you.” Hancock pushed the plate away; there were only a few crumbs left and his stomach was feeling considerably better than it had after the grape Mentats hit.

“Of course, what is it?” Yvette cocked her head.

“Not that he’s said anything about swinging that way, but uh…if he did…would it bother you if I made a play?” Hancock asked cautiously. It was something he’d been thinking about for a little while prior to the night before; getting to know Ed was a goddamn slow process, but the more he learned the more he wanted to learn, and the better he understood where Yvette was coming from in regards to the guy. The more Ed stuck around, the more his thinking and planning started to include Ed as a factor; it wasn’t a bad thing, but it necessitated the question. Just in case.

“I am not sure I understand, _Jean_?” Yvette said slowly. “Are you asking if I would be bothered for you approaching a man in general, or Edward for particulars?”

“Oh, I mean Ed specifically--because you know, you hit him up first. And I’m not saying I _would_ , I’m not even sure he’d actually swing my way. I’m just saying if he did, would you be bothered if I swung back?” Hancock explained. _Sure,_ there were a couple of good-looking guys in the Neighborhood, but his wife didn’t shy from the challenge of a strap--and he’d gotten pretty hung up on sleeping with somebody all hearts’ in… _if_ he were gonna scratch that itch, he wanted to with somebody…somebody he liked who liked him back. It was simultaneously the simplest and hardest want he had now.

Yvette took a few moments to frown and puzzle through the question, translating it into something she was pretty sure she understood. “I think I get it. And I would not be bothered, because why should I be? You and I are open to any kind of attractive person, and Edward is very attractive. As long as we follow our rules, there are no problems.” she said cheerfully.

“I had to ask.” Hancock said as he scooted his chair to get as close to her as possible so he could nuzzle her cheek and kiss it, then rest his head on her shoulder. “I fucking love you, you know that?” he added as he wrapped his arms loosely around her.

Yvette reached up and back so she could lightly scratch the side of his head with her fingertips. “Oh yes. You make it very easy and clear.” she murmured. “I am glad you enjoyed your boys’ time…and you did not leave him in an alley with no pants, yes?”

Hancock laughed, squeezing her and turning his head so he could kiss her shoulder. “I _didn’t_ , I promise.”

Yvette chuckled. “ _Bien, mon coeur, bien._ ”

He sighed. Life was good, and the quiet moment right after breakfast, before they had to go off and take care of the rest of the morning’s shit, was definitely in the top ten of his favorites.

***

Edward woke up coughing, squinting against the light coming in the window. He’d been too soused to dream, so the sleep had been deep and dark and heavy and not that restorative. And yet, he felt _pretty_ good. He was still figuring out his place in the Neighborhood, in his feelings, but…it didn’t suck as much anymore. It didn’t feel like he was on a knife’s edge over disaster, or suffocating, or just killing time until…whenever. There was still baggage galore to deal with, but for the first time in a _very, very, very,_ _very_ long time, it wasn’t just him by himself.

He had a _girlfriend_. Sure she had a husband, but…it was alright, because they were making friends. Actual friends, not ‘mutually tolerating each other for someone else sake’ “friends”; he had work friends he didn’t have to be in total charge of and didn’t want to shoot most of the time…except Mugsy, when he failed a bluff during a card game. He had a _window._

All he had to do, all he _needed_ to do, was get a firmer grip on some of the wilder urges that were coming up. Maybe Yvette was right, and acting on some of them would put the others in perspective. Then his mind wouldn’t wander where he didn’t want it going when he was having some busy alone time.

It was time to get up, clean up, and choke something down before getting to work. And somewhere around lunchtime…see _his girlfriend_ for a quick hello.

**Author's Note:**

> *Fun fact, apparently midcentury dishware would refer to this pattern ( [Franciscan starburst plate](https://www.thesprucecrafts.com/thmb/P48lEAsR3fbAjIgxVFdgdSIgHSs=/840x0/filters:no_upscale\(\):max_bytes\(150000\):strip_icc\(\):format\(webp\)/FranciscanStarburst-589ce9193df78c4758750c1a.jpg) ) as "Atomic Starburst" in marketing! It was just a fun little throw out because I'm sure the whole Cabot family probably had a bunch of pointless/random fetch-quests for Edward over the years
> 
> Bi-Edward is a gem and Hancock's official addiction to emotionally fulfilling sex is just *chef's kiss*


End file.
